Although I was hoping for an earlier delivery, I felt fairly
sure that Baby Boy was going to be born on September 2nd or 3rd. Turns out I was right.
The morning of the 2nd I started having contractions almost
right away. I got the big kids off to
school and set to cleaning the house. I had an appointment at 11 with the baby
doc and wanted to get as much done as possible before I left.
I dropped the boys off at my friend Amanda's house. She told me if I had any last minute errands
to run, she'd gladly watch the boys as long as I needed. We both speculated that it might be that day
and maybe they would even keep me after my appointment.
Walking into my appointment I had to stop a time or two to
breathe. Up until that day my contractions mostly came while sitting or lying
down so I knew things were progressing. I was very excited for my appointment
and hopeful progress had been made.
When the doc checked me she started laughing. She said, "At your last appointment you
were a 2 and 50%. You are now a 4 and
80%. That's a lot of progress! Do you
want to check into the hospital?"
No way. This time I planned to labor at home as much as I
possibly could. My hope was that I would
be so close to delivery when I arrived that I could avoid the IV and not even
have a choice in getting an epidural. I
was afraid I'd cave and get one and I really did not want to.
Doctor Kennedy told me that I needed to start driving to the
hospital when my contractions were 7 minutes apart because of my location to
the hospital, traffic, and the fact that it was my fifth.
What I didn't tell her, is that they were already about five
to six minutes apart. No way was I
checking in though. I knew they weren't
strong enough yet.
Instead I ran to Wal-mart for a few last minute items. Once or twice I had to stop and take a
breather. I was a little nervous my
water would break, but I made it out of there ok.
I came home, unloaded groceries and cleaned some more. The contractions were really close together
at this point, as in two to four minutes apart.
However, I still didn't think they were strong enough to go in. I did call Caleb to come home though, just in
case they intensified.
The kids came home from school at 3:30. Whitni went to pick up my mom from the
airport at about the same time. I
decided it was time to head over. I gave the kidlets hugs and headed out. We passed my mom and Whitni on the way.
The traffic was pretty busy and there was a slight bit of
nervousness that we wouldn't make it, but we managed to make good time.
When we arrived I went to the door that I thought was the
emergency entrance. As I walked in they
asked if I knew where I was going. I
said, "Well, I'm about to have a baby, can you direct me?" They said, "Now!? Stop your husband, you
are at the wrong door." We ran out
and grabbed him and headed across the street to the proper entrance. Caleb dropped me off and I slowly and
painfully walked in. There was a group
of people standing there, nonchalantly, "Hi, can we help you?" I
asked for directions to labor and delivery and they pointed to the
elevator. In my head I had this image of
someone being helpful and giving me a wheelchair. Nope. No help. I waddled over to the elevator and bent over
to tough out a contraction.
When I reached the floor it was quite the walk to
registration. Again, no help. I'm lucky I handle contractions pretty
well. When I got up to the window, the
receptionist was on the phone. She just
finished her conversation while I stood there with my eyes closed trying to
quietly get through the contractions that were 1.5 to 2 minutes apart.
Finally she asked if she could help me. I was laughing inside. Seriously?
No one can tell what the problem is?
I told her I was in labor and had been since the early morning and that
I knew I was dilated to at least a 4. She just slowly went about getting my
information and asking me questions. As
she went to lead me to my room I just stood there, eyes closed, slightly bent,
through a pretty intense contraction.
When it was over she said, "Wow, you are quiet. I wouldn't have even known you were having a
contraction."
She led me to the room where I changed and waited for the
nurse. A little while later she came
and again was in no hurry. I guess I just don't seem like I'm in intense
pain.
When she did finally check me I was a 7. I was actually a
little disappointed. I was hoping to
just get there and have the kid. My doctor hurried over, when she checked me
(maybe 30 minutes after the first check) I was an 8.
Dr. Kennedy came back in a few minutes later to check on me
and I was sitting on the edge of the bed just praying my water would
break. She said, "Wow. You are very
calm for being an 8 and about to have a baby." I just smiled at her, I had no idea what to
say.
She asked if I'd like my water broken. I debated it, but I
was ready to get the show on the road, so I said yes.
After she broke my water, things got seriously intense. I was thinking that it wasn't so bad, that
although painful, this was no big deal.
Five minutes after she broke my water I was no longer thinking
that. My friend had told me to count
down from fifteen, knowing that likely I'd only have fifteen of those super
intense contractions. By the time I got
to number eleven, I was starting to freak out a little. I told Caleb to tell
them I need to push.
She checked me and said there was still some cervix all the
way around but it would probably recede with the next contraction, which
started immediately as she said it.
I told her I was going to push. I had been holding Caleb's hand and squeezing
it. They made him move the side with the
much unwanted IV and I couldn't properly grip his hand with the IV in the way.
It was the worst part for me. I
wanted to curl in a ball and squeeze his hand or squeeze anything, but I
couldn't find anything to grip. I
remember crying out in pain, although not very loudly. Doctor Kennedy came running in and, trying
somewhat to be funny, I said, "I'm NOT CALM ANYMORE!" I remember being a little disappointed that
she didn't find it funny. Instead she
ran to her station to get ready.
As soon as they told me to pull my legs up and push, I was
doing it, I needed no more direction.
First push and the doc said, "That was an amazing push do that
again as soon as you think you can." So I did and his head was out. She told me no more pushing, but it's hard to
stop when you are in such intense pain.
Suddenly I felt movement, the baby moved himself out of there. I could feel his arms and legs moving and I
heard the doctor say something like, "Oh, oh! I guess I can't do
that." She dropped the bulb syringe
she was using to suck out his nose and caught him just in time. Caleb said, "Holy crap! He just crawled out of there!" Then he looked at me and said, "You are
a Rock Star!" I loved that.
I think I was in shock and utterly relieved it was
over. I just laid there and shook as
they numbed me and sewed me up and finished all the other fun stuff that comes
with having a baby.
They lay sweet baby Quinten on my chest. He was a big baby so they did take him for
just a second to weigh him, then I got
to hold him skin to skin for a full hour. I nursed him and loved on him and
contemplated the whole experience.
I'm so glad I did it naturally. Afterwards I was certain I would never do
that again. Now I'm just not sure. They never offered anything and I never asked.
It was only about ten minutes of intense pain.
That sounds like no big deal, and yet I'm in no hurry to do it again. Whereas normally after labor I'm all ready to
do it again. I've loved all my labors,
even this one, now that time has faded the memory a bit.
